


The Red Dress Affair

by AnotherAnon0



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Crossdressing Kink, Hate Sex, Lingerie, M/M, Nicholai is a hoe again, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Verbal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: Murphy visits a club on one of his few days off.Nicholai is there. And he's dressed unconventionally.[A remix of 'Dancing with a Stranger' by the incredible FanficReader01]
Relationships: Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Murphy Seeker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	The Red Dress Affair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FanFicReader01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader01/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dancing With A Stranger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839761) by [FanFicReader01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader01/pseuds/FanFicReader01). 



> This is a remix of "Dancing with a Stranger" by the incredible FanficReader01. His story got me so inspired and excited I absolutely had to try the scenario out through another lens. I give 20000% credit to him. Nothing here is original. Nothing here is mine. It is all FFR01s baby. I am just cradling it oh so gentle. Please go read his incredible fanfics.

_He looked good in red._

It was an odd first thought to have, one that uncomfortably lingered at the back of his mind like the stench of liquor lingered at the back of his sinuses. 

The thought was thick and had weight. It was pressing into his throat, wrapping its invisible fingers around his larynx in an iron-clad grip. It was squeezing, tighter and tighter until he felt he couldn't breath. 

Murphy tried to swallow the iron-clad ball sitting on his dry tongue, quickly lifting to take a swig of his beer as though he could swallow the thought whole and it disappear into his stomach. 

It was still there when he lowered the amber bottle, the thin opening of the slender neck making a chipper _pop_ against his lips when he suctioned it away from them. The low, reverberating hum and echo of the cultureless, nondescript electronic music was still there. The clamour of people he knew existed but couldn't see and barely hear was still there. 

_He_ was still there.

The silky, red fabric outlined the taut contours of his abdominal muscles perfectly. It contrasted against his pale flesh sickeningly, like an endless sea of stainless blood. Murphy wasn't sure how long the dress could have been, the tight hem hiked up around his thighs as a stranger prodded at the exposed flesh incessantly. A large man, drunkenly, lecherously grinned as he pressed up behind him, reaching around and grabbing at the inside of his thighs, marring it with filthy spots almost the same colour as what he adorned. He simply lulled his head back onto the stranger's shoulder, a devious, satisfied expression peeling his lips away from his teeth. 

That stranger hadn't been the first Murphy had silently witnessed preforming the perverted ritual, the next step of which was the two disappearing into the back bathroom for what felt like forever but Murphy knew were only minutes. 

Murphy watched the hand dance up and down the exposed thigh, each time it bunched the fabric up higher and higher. A few times, the lacy hemline of a pair of panties peeked out perversely, accosting him with a spark of something he didn't want sparked.

He considered ordering another beer as he watched the two move into the next stage; A pale hand enrobing the peachy one on his hip and tugging at it. A whisper exchanged between them. A casual, hazy saunter to the back of the club. For some reason, Murphy stayed transfixed on them, watching the bouquet of red disappear into the abyss of darkness. He couldn't turn to demand another beer. He simply sat, ankles clasping the leg of the stool, drowning out thoughts he pretended he didn't have. 

His eyes stayed transfixed at that dark spot at the back of the club the two had disappeared into. His hand was squeezing gently around the empty beer bottle he hadn't put down, using it like a soother. His leg began bouncing anxiously, minutes accumulating to the ridiculous beat of music he didn't care for and the drunken jeers of patrons he didn't want to know.

When Murphy stood, it was on shaky legs that didn't quite want to comply as though his mind was waging a war with itself. His strides towards the darkness were interrupted by the occasional bounding partier or half-collapsing drunkard -- obstacles he weaved around as he continued to walk, the taste of lead in his mouth getting more intense with every step forward. 

The door to the bathroom was black, like the rest of the wall. The silver doorhandle gleaned with purple, blue, and green as the coloured strobe combed over the dance floor. 

He didn't have to open it. It opened for him -- the handle suddenly turning and door opening to reveal the stranger, now with a flushed face and a hand fiddling with his sloppily-latched belt. The stranger smiled at Murphy deviously, licking his lips once with a huffed chuckle of satisfaction that was almost drowned out by the music. He slipped by without a word, making his way towards the bar as Murphy stayed transfixed on the gap in the door that was slowly getting thinner and thinner.

He caught it with his palm just before it closed completely. The grime of the door was thick against his hand, but he didn't pay any mind to it as he pushed it open just enough for his body to slide through. 

The bathroom was enrobed in a lazy, dim blue light -- glow-in-the-dark posters and neon orange spray paint decorated the walls eerily.

There were only two stalls, one of which was without a door. The few steps it took to draw himself before it were impossibly difficult and set to the stifled soundtrack of the club.

" _Dobry vecha',_ Seeker." The words penetrated the piss-rank air the moment he converged on the space, body eclipsing over the opening.

Nicholai was biting his bottom lip in an attempt to suppress his crooked grin -- one that reminded Murphy of a spoiled, entitled cat lapping at a bowl of cream. His voice was raspy, deep, and hazy. 

For a moment, Murphy stood at the threshold of the stall in silence, hands wringing awkwardly at the bottom hems of his light jacket. His eyes were dancing over the other man, taking in a sight he'd never even anticipated existed prior to that night. _Sargeant Zinoviev_ had been the bane of his existence day in and day out of training -- mocking, prodding, and provoking him. His abuses so notorious it had prompted Murphy to dedicate more than one entry in his journal to him. 

Now, he was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, the red dress hiked up so high around the Sargeant's body that his pink, hard nipples were just barely exposed. But the erection leaking and straining beside the drenched, sheer panties were what caused a hiccup to catch in Murphy's throat, the lacy, cum-soaked material pushed to the side of it like a ribbon.

"D.. does Ca-c-cap kn... know...?" His incoherent, reactionary thought was interrupted by a bellowing laugh, one that drenched him in aggressive embarrassment.

Nicholai sighed smugly, "Do you want to call him?" He smirked, "Maybe he can come here and _finish me off_."

The words echoed through Murphy's brain with the same ferocity as a headache, temporarily incapacitating every cell in his body. The Sargeant was revelling in the mingle of an incalculable amount of expressions dancing across the younger man's face. 

Nicholai stood slowly, the silky fabric of the dress dropping slightly and bunching at his waist.

" _Do you like my dress, Seeker_?"

An immediate step forward followed the jeer, and their lips enveloped each other in a sloppy crash of teeth and flesh. Murphy felt his hands involuntarily moving to grab at Nicholai's exposed hips, squeezing them tightly as their bodies ground against each other almost rhythmically. 

Murphy could feel Nicholai's erection straining against him firmly, pushing at the material of his pants, coating it in precum. Breathy grunts and shuddering moans of passion waged a war against the thumping, muffled beat. His lips fell and danced down the older man's jaw began to plant bruising kisses against Nicholai's neck, sucking and biting at the flesh ravenously. The Sargeant cocked his head back in delight, groans intertwined with breathy laughs choking through his throat. 

The younger man used his grip on Nicholai's hips to abruptly force him to turn, a desperate haze overcoming his thoughts and flushing his cheeks with a boiling shade of beet-red. Nicholai planted a knee on the toilet's lid, leaning against the tank with an inviting, arched back. He cast a needy gaze of his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and glazed with delight and desire as Murphy frantically struggled to free himself from the now-overly restrictive confines of his fatigue trousers. 

Murphy tugged at the panties furiously, finger tearing through the lacy fabric with a loud _rip_ as he pushed them down around Nicholai's thighs. 

Both of the men released a simultaneous moan when Murphy slid against the tight entrance that had been presented to him, arousal pushing past firm cheeks to penetrate the tight hole slowly, but desperately. 

Murphy had limited experience with men -- isolated trysts with Carlos behind the dumpster were a rare treat when the two had gotten buzzed on stolen cooking wine from the canteen -- and he'd never felt the way he did in that moment. He couldn't spare a thought to assess whether it was the underlying tension between them that prompted such a strong reaction, or if it was the impossible grip of Nicholai's muscles against him as he plunged deeper and deeper. He wavered momentarily in a semi-conscious state, curly, blonde bush nestling against the pale flesh of Nicholai's rear as he paused to fight the overwhelming sensations burning through his stomach.

The older man was gripping the porcelain tank tightly, savouring the delight of being stretched, penetrated, owned. He pushed his hips against Murphy, wanting him deeper than he'd ever be able to go. His eyes were lulling behind fluttering lids, tongue darting out of flushed lips to lick corner to corner in a hazy hunger. 

"Seeker... ** _fuck me_**." 

The raspy plea cut through the fog in Murphy's mind, invisibly snapping him out of the distorted reality of dim blue lights and muted music he'd momentarily fallen into. His eyes fixated themselves on the wrinkled red dress, hands sliding up Nicholai's back and pushing it up even further, finding flesh to grip as he began to slowly, rhythmically pump into the older man. He cocked his hips back until his length was almost fully exposed, puncturing it back in roughly and eliciting a deep gasp of pleasure from him. 

"F.. fu..fuck..." Murphy knew nonsense was slipping from his gaped lips, fingers running up and down Nicholai's back, leaving tight, red marks along the pale flesh that complimented the dress. The fire in his stomach was licking up into his lungs, choking him. He felt like smoke would start wisping from his throat any moment.

Nicholai was whimpering softly, pushing back against every deep thrust in wanton demand. He cupped his hand around his own erection, squeezing it roughly as he absorbed every hip-quivering inch of the penetration, orgasm beginning to leak onto the toilet seat below.

Murphy quickly found a rougher, steady pace; breathy, jagged moans bellowing from his trembling chest. 

Coupled with the grunts, moans, and yelps of delight, the sound of sticky, wet skin slapping skin was intoxicating, and easily overcame the harsh music of the club dinning just outside the bathroom walls. 

Nicholai climaxed before Murphy did, seed spilling onto his legs, the pushed down panties, and the dirty porcelain toilet perversely. The quivering orgasm wracked every muscle in his body, causing him to clench down tightly on Murphy's erection, pushing and clenching at it in twitching reverberation. A pathetic, anxious whimper gasped forth from him as he continued to be used after he'd cum, a demented, exhausted excitement beating through his belly. His hand reached to his side to grip at the lock Murphy's fingers had on his hip, stroking at them in gentle encouragement. 

The younger man spilled his seed after planting himself deep in the Sargeant's body, hips bucking and slapping loudly against Nicholai's sweaty flesh as he injected himself as deeply as he could, jerking tremors accompanying every tendril of pearlescent white painting the inside of the other man's guts.

It took him a moment to regain composure, slowly loosening his grip on Nicholai's bruising flesh, a wave of consciousness slapping him across the face harshly. He swallowed hard, slipping from the willing body that had voluntarily stayed steady for him as he finished the moment he was physically able to. He sucked a breath through his teeth as he noticed his orgasm spill dow the delicate curvature of Nicholai's perfect ass, tucking himself away carefully while his eyes followed the steady stream of cum curl into Nicholai's strong inner thighs.

As soon as he was released, Nicholai dipped to grab the waist of his panties, slipping them back up before he stood. Cum immediately began to stain the material; the warm, squelching load trapped tightly against his flesh. Nicholai turned and shot a quick, perverted wink at him.

He loved it.

Murphy backed out of the stall slowly, legs shaky and incapable while Nicholai pushed his dress down. The older man strode past him confidently, not a hint of exhaustion or orgasm-laden lethargy to his movements, and approached the single, cracked wall-mirror across the small room by the urinals. Murphy followed him with his hazy gaze, watching the older man intently assess himself. 

A moment of silence passed between them. The humming, thumping music of the club again overwhelmed every sense.

"This means nothing." Nicholai muttered with a smirk, adjusting his red dress again. He straightened the seams straining against his hipbones and smoothed the fabric over his strong abdomen, "And if you tell anyone, I'll _kill_ you."

There was a hint of amusement in the thick, deep, accented voice, but not enough for it to have been a joke.

Murphy swallowed heavily, taking a deep breath through his nose as he watched Nicholai finally turn towards the door, "Yes, sir."

Nicholai stopped when his hand planted against the door, turning towards the younger man with a devious grin.

"Ma'am."

**Author's Note:**

> The best way to describe this is a fanfic of a fanfic lmfao AGAIN: 20000% credit to FanficReader01 and his "Dancing with a Stranger."
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, I hope FFR01 thinks it did it justice. I just couldn't resist AT ALL.


End file.
